


Home Remedies

by telera



Category: Hannibal (TV)
Genre: Crack, M/M, Manipulation, sick!will, thermometer
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-06-16
Updated: 2013-06-16
Packaged: 2017-12-15 04:30:58
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,091
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/845346
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/telera/pseuds/telera
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>For this prompt at the kinkmeme: "Hannibal takes Will's temperature with a meat thermometer. (while he's still alive, not when he's, like, artfully displayed in a roasting pan or something) </p><p>Bonus points if it's taken rectally.<br/>Double bonus if it's somehow not a crackfill".</p>
            </blockquote>





	Home Remedies

**Author's Note:**

> I didn't really mean this to be cracky, but as some readers have read this fic in that way, I'm adding that tag just in case ^^ Do your own interpretation!

'You have an aspirin?' Will murmured as he fumbled in one of his pockets. The day had been too long, and this late appointment wouldn't help the throbbing pain hammering in his head.

 

'I'm sorry, I don't' Hannibal replied from his desk.

 

'Nothing in your medical kit which might help me? Advil, Aleve?'

 

'Nothing beyond some gauze, I'm afraid'.

 

Will frowned half-surprised and half-bemused.

 

'You don't keep drugs at home, Dr. Lecter?' he asked with that tight little smile of his.

 

'I'm afraid not' Hannibal said closing his notebook 'I rarely fall ill, and when I do I never take pills. I prefer to let the body fight the cause of illness naturally. With some broth. Or tea'.

 

'Oh' Will said rising an eyebrow 'Of course'.

 

Somehow, Hannibal always managed to sound reasonable, however odd his words might seem at first. A doctor not having a bottle of paracetamol capsules at home? Logical. Same doctor curing fever with broth? Obvious.

 

'Do you feel ill, Will?'

 

Will ran a shaky hand across his forehead. It was moist with tiny little beads of sweat, and a sharp pang of red pain pierced his temples. He was coming down with something, a fever, the flu. Maybe something worse.

 

'May I?' Hannibal said reaching with his hand to feel Will's forehead. Will nodded minutely and felt the strong, secure hand pressing on his skin.

 

'I think you've got a temperature, Will. A cup of my special blend will help, if you feel like it'.

 

'Okay' Will muttered sitting down on his armchair. He wasn't particularly thirsty, but the thought of a warm cup of Hannibal's tea sounded comforting.

 

'I apologize for this question' Hannibal said clearing his throat 'But I need to measure the ingredients of the blend with precision for it to be effective. How much do you weight?'

 

Will frowned.

 

'Em... 77 kg? Last time I checked, that was... I don't remember'.

 

Hannibal nodded.

 

'Thank you. I'll be back shortly'.

 

Will stared unblinkingly at Hannibal's empty armchair for a long moment and wondered if he should go to the kitchen to help him. But his head was swimming in a sea of wet cotton, and he felt dizzy and confused. He closed his eyes to avoid the light of the office, and when he opened them again, Hannibal was standing by his side.

 

'I need to take your temperature, Will. The chrysanthemum leaf is only effective for fevers over 38ºC, otherwise it will have undesirable secondary effects. I need to make sure'.

 

Will frowned at the strange object Hannibal was holding in his hand. For a thermometer it looked way too big. Too many buttons. The digital display was flickering yellow, and the metal probe was sharp as a knife.

 

'Is that... a turkey thermometer?'

 

'Not only for turkeys. All kinds of meats, really. I use it for veal round when I have guests. I'm sorry, but I'm afraid the only clinical thermometer I have is a Viennese antique from 1668. And it's not very accurate'.

 

Will looked at the cooking instrument and for a moment he didn't know whether to feel offended or joke about the suggestion that he was as good as a chunk of meat. But Hannibal only wanted to help, he had offered to prepare some time-tested home remedy for him and it would be rude to decline now. So he licked his lips and opened his mouth.

 

'I'm sorry, Will, but oral temperature is not reliable enough. I need a rectal reading'.

 

'A what-?' Will couldn't help a surprised chuckle, which died when he looked at Hannibal's serious face.

 

'It is by far the most accurate way to determine a patient's temperature' he said in that _obviously-evident_ tone that made Will feel embarrassed at having questioned his expertise 'The normal human core temperature range measure achieved in this way is exactly what I need to fine tune your herbal medicine. And it will only take a minute'.

 

Will swallowed thickly and considered once more the meat thermometer. He wasn't sure he liked this, but he was starting to feel his teeth throbbing in time with his heartbeat, and they felt sweaty and furry all over.

 

'OK' he said leaving his armchair and stretching his hand out 'Where's the bathroom?'

 

Hannibal's face didn't change, nor did he give Will the thermometer.

 

'It would be unwise for you to take your temperature yourself, Will. This is a very delicate instrument and you could hurt yourself with the probe unless you've had some experience handling it'.

 

It took Will a long moment to understand what Hannibal was really saying.

 

'You- You want to take my temperature yourself?'

 

'I don't want to, Will. But I must'.

 

Again, it was a logical conclusion. Reasonable. Self-evident. Hannibal knew how to use the meat thermometer, and Will didn't. And he was trying to avoid Will from hurting himself. A little nagging voice in the back of his head told Will that this was wrong. But the increasing hum of his fever drowned the feeble arguments the little voice made, and instead the well crafted, solid reasoning of Hannibal grew like a thorny steely bush only the feathered stag would dare to stomp on.

 

'Will you come to the kitchen, please?'

 

Hannibal's gentle, reassuring words snapped Will out of the forest of his mind. The kitchen, yes. That was the right place to take his temperature. Everything was so easy with Hannibal. So simple.

 

'If you could please lean on the-'

 

But Will had already obeyed, he was bending over on the butcher's block with his pants and underwear down. He liked the view of the kitchen from this point of view, and the fever made him wonder what those veal rounds thought when they were lying here, ready to be cut open and trussed. Maybe they shivered, like he did when Hannibal parted his cheeks and inserted the lubed probe carefully inside him.

 

'One minute, Will'.

 

It felt like an eternity to Will, and he blushed as his body clenched around the cold metallic tip and sucked it a little more inside.

 

 _Wrong_ , the little drowning voice echoed in the distance.

 

'Good' Hannibal announced removing the thermometer 'It's a mere 37,7ºC. No chrysanthemum leaf then, but 5 grams of _Radix Glycyrrhizae_. The tea will be ready soon. And you'll feel so much better, Will. I promise'.

 

Will nodded and left the kitchen, dragging his feet in exhaustion towards Hannibal's office. Alone with the teapot, Hannibal simply put a liquorice tea bag inside and smiled.


End file.
